"Sharp, quirky, and occasionally nettlesome", Walking the Berkshires is my personal blog, an eclectic weaving of human narrative, natural history, and other personal passions with the Berkshire and Litchfield Hills as both its backdrop and point of departure. I am interested in how land and people, past and present manifest in the broader landscape and social fabric of our communities. The opinions I express here are mine alone. Never had ads, never will.

March 22, 2012

We have some truly spectacular waterfalls here in the Berkshire and Litchfield Hills and all along the Taconic Plateau. I make a point of visiting as many of them as I can in every season. Here are a few shots taken during this past remarkably warm and snowless winter of Bash Bish Falls in Copake, NY and Campbell Falls in New Marlborough, MA .

There is no meltwater this Spring, and many of our flashy, ephemeral streams will likely run dry as the season advances. Still, something about a cleft in the rock and falling water always feels spectacular.

March 21, 2012

This is inside baseball (way low and inside, actually), but those of you who love a possibly too clever historical farce may be interested in the further adventures of the fictional Private Constant Belcher: sometime batman to Brigade Major Aaron Ogden of the New Jersey Line and something of a cross between Harry Flashman and Blackadder's Baldrick.

Although it bears repeating that he is NOT REAL, and that any historical personages or military units described in his "Journal" are used fictitiously, Constant Belcher has a blog of his own, and also a Facebook page, so like him if you do (and keep cool if you don't) but he appears to be here to stay. Also, as his editor I have thoughtfully provided useful background information of genuine historical interest by way of introduction to his narratives.

Thus far the Belcher papers that have been transcribed by me and my fellow conspirator collaborator Larry Schmidt cover the following episodes during the American Revolution:

Rest assured we shall keep you abreast of further developments and what we anticipate will be more amazing discoveries as they are revealed in the Belcher Journal. To any who were taken in my initial Belcher revelations last Autumn, I plead nolo contendere and call upon your better natures to assume good intent. And if you still think giving green apples to a horse will help speed the passage of your watercraft by means of a copious wind, then I have a bridge I'd like to sell you. Or at the very least, Belcher's submarine.

March 14, 2012

In 1779-1780 Washington's main army spent the worst winter - not only of the war but of the entire 18th century - in the hills south of Morristown, New Jersey. Known as Jockey Hollow, the encampment ultimately housed more than 10,000 soldiers of the Continental Army in 1,200 log huts which they had to build for themselves by clearing more than 600 acres of trees while enduring severe cold and relentless snow storms.

It was a winter like none other ever recorded East of the Mississippi. New York Harbor froze to a depth of 18 feet, and Long Island Sound could be crossed in sleighs. Jockey Hollow was literally buried in snow as the men began to arrive and the storms continued to pound the encampment while the huts were under construction. Army Surgeon James Thatcher recorded;

"[We] endured one of the most tremendous snow-storms ever remembered; no man could endure its violence many minutes without danger of his life...the sufferings of the poor soldiers can scarcely be described, while on duty they are unavoidably exposed to all the inclemency of snows and severe cold; at night they now have a bed of straw, and a single blanket to each man; they are badly clad, and some are destitute of shoes...the soldiers are so enfeebled from cold, as to be almost unable to perform their military duty."

The men slept six to a tent until they were able to construct log huts for 12 men measuring 14' x 16'. The regimental officers had huts, located further up the hillsides from those of the men, accommodating 2-4 officers and had chimneys on either end, but these were not fully completed until February. The roads, such as they were, were impassable much of the time, which prevented essential supplies from reaching the troops. Connecticut private Joseph Plumb Martin later recalled;

"The deep snow was the keystone in the arch of starvation. We were absolutely, literally starved. For four days and as many nights I did not put a single morsel into my mouth except a little black birch bark I gnawed off a limb. Some boiled and ate their shoes. Some officers killed a pet dog for food. If this was not starving, I wonder what was."

Compared to these extreme privations, the weekend encampments I have participated in at Jockey Hollow this mild winter bear little resemblance to what those men survived in 1779-1780 (and extraordinarily, fewer of them succumbed to starvation and illness here than died at Valley Forge two years before). Nonetheless, there is something profoundly visceral about living and working in one of the five reconstructed huts on the very site where the Pennsylvania Line encamped at Jockey Hollow. Little things, like the way the doors are aligned to take advantage of maximum afternoon sunlight, or the effort it takes to keep a fire going all night long, make this kind of living history experience more instructive for those of us who undertake it than the battle recreations that are also part of our hobby. Using period tools and techniques to build a roof without nails, or cooking the kinds of rations that soldiers ate (when they had them), add greatly to the experience. The fact that none of us is at risk of starvation or freezing to death and can go home after a less than fully comfortable night or two in the huts only underscores our amazement and admiration at what the men we portray did under horrendous conditions for months on end.

For a number of years, members of the 2nd New Jersey Regiment and invited reenactor guests have enjoyed a special connection as volunteers at this site and an excellent partnership with the National Park Service. They are able to work on the huts, slowing bringing them closer to the way the originals were likely constructed based on ongoing historical research and archaeology. They interact with hundreds of park visitors at the huts, including many who are truly engaged and interested in what they are doing and what we have to share. I have been able to participate as one of these reenactors last December and earlier this month and look forward to doing so again in the future.